Little Brothers
by Xazz
Summary: "You're oftly suspicious mister," said the boy eyeing Altair and then looked back at the Templars. "That I am," Altair agreed softly and waited until the Templars were a sufficient distance away before he stood and the boy caught a flash of his blade.
1. Suspicious

Altair pulled air into his lungs as he ran. Behind him he could hear the Templars following as fast as they could in their bulky red and white armor. He could only imagine that if he was getting tired in just his light armor and robes that they had to be dying in their metal plates; especially under such intense heat. He finally managed to put some distance between them so that a quick duck behind a corner was enough to break the line of sight. His sharp eyes scanned the new street and he spotted a bench.

Practically falling into it Altair forced his breath to even out as the Templars ran up to the intersection, realized their prey had escaped them and proceeded to split up, two to each street, scanning the street for anything suspicious.

Altair flexed his wrist and with a near silent hiss his hidden blade, still covered in the blood of another of those damn Templars, slipped from the sheath on his arm guard as they began to walk down the street. Altair kept his head down, but his eyes were focused on the two Templars as they stopped at a hay pile and proceeded to jab their swords into it muttering to themselves in French. Altair frowned at that; they were getting wise to his escape tactics.

His eyes darted to the other side when something next to him creaked. He expected perhaps one of the guards to have come up the other side of the street. But no, it was much less sinister. Just a boy, looking about nine or so in patched over clothes that looked like they hadn't seen a washing in months, arms and legs scrawny and unwashed as his clothes were. He was counting a few tarnished coins in his hand, perfectly content to ignore Altair in all of his fashions. It didn't take a genius to understand that the boy was a thief, and if a slow developing bruise on one of his legs was any indication, perhaps not a very fast one.

The Templars were moving down the street again, towards them and Altair looked away from the boy, his head never moving, simply allowing his eyes to shift under his shaded hood.

"You there," the Templar spoke in broken Arabic as he and his comrade stood in front of the bench Altair and the boy were sitting on. The boy stiffened, but Altair just allowed himself to sag as if something on his neck ailed him and to keep his blade hidden under his fingers. "Have you seen a suspicious man come through here?" he asked, Altair just shook his head in the way he knew they expected one of the invalids to do.

"And you?" Altair's eyes shifted to the boy who was staring at them before shaking his head. The Templars turned away and once again began speaking in French to one another quickly moving away from the bench.

"You're oftly suspicious mister," said the boy eyeing Altair and then looked back at the Templars, thinking maybe he could get something from them if he pointed out the obvious to the pale invaders.

"That I am," Altair agreed softly and waited until the Templars were a sufficient distance away before he stood and the boy caught a flash of his blade. Altair flexed his hand again and the boy watched wide eyed as the bloodied blade retracted into its hidden sheath. Slowly he put his fingers to his scarred lips and the boy nodded, more then a little wide-eyed.

Altair smirked to himself before finding a nearby ladder and pulling himself up onto the rooftops. Best to let the Templars continue their wild camel-chase far from his immediate vicinity.

—

Malik decided not to comment when he watched Altair stuff one of the small loaves of bread from the morning meal into one of his pouches. While it was a behavior he expected from other assassins who came to call in his bureau, those who enjoyed having something else for lunch then a scalding from Malik's sharp tongue at least, Altair was not one of those assassins. So the behavior seemed more then a little strange to the Dai who squinted at Altair as he picked himself off the tiled garden floor and without even saying a word climbed up out of the bureau.

He could let it stand that perhaps Altair wanted a snack later in the day. But the theory held no water since as a Master Assassin Altair was given some coin while in a foreign city for practical uses. Is Altair was hungry he could just go buy it; he didn't need to take it from the the bureau. He decided not to worry to much about it in the end though since it was a trivial matter.

Sadly this wasn't the only erratic behavior Altair had been showing of late. Tasks Malik assigned Altair seemed to take longer, as if he was dawdling or simply being distracted. Unlike the food this made the man grow concerned since Altair was not one to be distracted for any reason less it was come to bother Malik while he worked. Malik grated his teeth and reminded himself that it was better Altair had found some other _thing_ to bother with since it meant he wasn't here between missions contaminating the air of his bureau with his very presence.

He had to tell himself several times that he did _not_ know where Altair was during the hours he obviously was not doing assigned work and he was _not_ irritated that he didn't know either. Still Malik was nothing if not curious, and whatever could keep Altair distracted for such a length at a time was bound to be interesting.

His eyes flicked up when he heard the familiar soft clap of boots on the tiled garden. As no other assassins were currently working in Jerusalem other then the novices (who still managed to blunder through the open roof entrance without fail) he knew it could only be Altair.

"Safety and peace, brother," was Altair's first words as he slipped silently through the open door of the bureau.

"I had both until you once again found yourself here Altair," was Malik's automatic response. Altair's lips quirked but he made no response. "Where have you been? It was a simply task I assigned you. Don't tell me it was to difficult when even the most unbalanced novice could complete it," he added.

"The task is done, Malik," was all Altair said. Same as the last two times Malik had asked where he'd been. "Do you have more or may I go?"

Malik squinted at him, "Go where?"

"Does it matter?"

Malik bit back a hot retort. But he didn't want to appear to suspicious. "No," he said shortly. "But stop stealing my bread," he added sharply. He'd noted that Altair had been taking several loaves more as the days went by and it was increasingly frustrating to the Dai since it meant he had to go send a novice to get more.

"Of course. I did not think it was an issue," Altair said softly, the way he spoke told Malik that he _wasn't_ the one eating it.

"If you tell me where it's going I may not have such a problem with it," he said simply.

"What makes you think it's going anywhere but my stomach?" Altair asked, but Malik sent him a scathing look that made his lips twitch again; damn his cockiness. "Okay, I admit. It isn't for me," he finally said after a long silence.

"Who then brother? Pray tell you haven't lost your mind and are feeding it to the birds like some old woman," Malik implored sarcastically.

"Nothing nearly so fanciful," Altair's lips twitched again, this time misgevious.

"Are you going to tell me then?" Malik propped a hand on his waist growing more irritated and insufferably curious by the second. He was sure Altair knew he wanted to know and was purposefully being difficult about it. He bet that it was more likely then less at that as well.

"I'm giving it to this boy I met," Altair said and Malik stared at him. Altair; showing compassion? It did not sound like his sometimes-friend in the slightest.

"What in Allah would compel you to do that?" he demanded.

Altair only shrugged, "If it is that bothersome I will buy it instead," he said as cool as ever. "If that is all Malik?" he asked after the bureau leader didn't speak for several moments, his face working to try and get words out he wanted but couldn't think of what to say. This behavior was so out of character for Altair Malik didn't quite know what to say. Sometimes he forgot that Altair wasn't as distance as he pretended to be around everyone. It was hard to be one of the best; since everyone believed they were better and were more then ready to test you against themselves. Malik huffed but was forced to concede that maybe this wasn't such off behavior for Altair since he remembered on more then one occasion when Altair had shared one of his meals at Masyaf with Kadar when the novice was finished with his own and was still hungry.

"No, it isn't a bother," Malik wrinkled his face irritably. "You need not be so secretive Altair," Altair's only response was to shrug. "You may go," he added dismissively and turned away from Altair. Only a few seconds later Malik heard the heave of fabric and leather against stone as Altair climbed up the garden wall and the soft patter of his footsteps on the roof that marked Altair's departure.


	2. Rakkim

To his credit the boy no longer jumped, startled, when Altair snuck up on him. Altair let a small smile come to his face when the boy instead whirled to face him, his pale eyes wide with mischief and delight. "Akh Altair!" Rakkim cried in delight as he always did whenever he made his presence known. "What did you bring for me today?" he asked excitedly and Altair let his smile broaden just slightly at seeing his eyes, gray in some lights, blue in others, flash brightly. They reminded him so dearly of someone else that he could not shake the feeling that Kadar was peering at him from behind Rakkim's eyes.

"Nothing," he held his hands out to his sides, showing they were empty and Rakkim looked close to turn his smile into a pout before Altair added, "Just an adventure." At that Rakkim's strange blue-gray eyes practically glowed in delight. "Follow me," he turned and didn't check to make sure the boy was following him, he knew he was. He found a ladder and climbed to the top. Rakkim practically bumped into him as he climbed up after him.

"Where are we going akh?" Rakkim asked brightly.

"You shall see," was all Altair said and led the way away from the street they'd been on and took an easy route over the roof tops. At a seemingly invisible divider between the poor and rich districts Rakkim hesitated.

"I should not be here akh," he said nervously.

"It will be fine," he beckoned with one hand and Rakkim went though it looked as though he felt someone would shoot him with an arrow at any second. Altair just shook his head, amused, and continued on, he could hear Rakkim's quiet steps behind him.

—

"Here?" Rakkim's eyes were wide when they finally stopped, now on street level in front of the main market of the wealthiest part of Jerusalem. "What are we doing here akh?" he asked turning to look at Altair, his eyes held more questions but even after only a week of knowing Altair he knew better then to ask them.

Altair didn't answer, he just gently pushed aside a few people in his way and entered the long covered market. He felt more then saw or heard Rakkim slip into his shadow almost clinging to him. Altair didn't say anything when someone bumped into them and the boy grabbed the back of his robes. "This is what we're doing," Altair finally said after they'd past the man and held up a purse fat with coins just enough for Rakkim to see but not draw attention. Rakkim's eyes once more got wide and Altair wanted to laugh. It reminded Altair of the first time he'd found himself and Malik skipping their classes; as if he couldn't believe they were really doing it.

"Where did you get that?" Rakkim asked softly.

"That man we bumped into. Don't worry, he won't need a small bag like this," he shrugged and they passed wordlessly through the market, Altair didn't steal any more coin but instead found himself in front of a man who sat outside of the market set up behind a colorful blanket laden with trinkets.

"Hello good sir, how may I be of service?" the man asked as Altair's roamed over his blanket before they went to Rakkim. The merchant's attention quickly diverted from Altair to the boy realizing that Altair was not his true customer. Ten minutes later Altair was handing the merchant a small stack of shiny silver coins and with a guiding hand on Rakkim's head, led him away. The boy was now totally enraptured with what Altair had bought him. It was a horse and rider that looked so lifelike it was even startling to Altair and made of highly polished wood with tack and armor painted in bright colors and a touch of what was probably gold leaf. Real hair poked out from the wood statuettes and the toy man was clothed in real cloth.

"Thank you akh," Rakkim looked up at him as they walked, beaming so brightly his face practically split in two from his smile. Altair's only omission was a nod and to gently pat Rakkim on the head as the boy skipped next to him as they walked down the street, Altair leading them back towards the poorer part of the city.

Altair stopped abruptly when he heard a woman suddenly cry, "Won't somebody please help me!" Rakkim just looked back at him confused as if he had not heard. It irritated that it probably was true since such words of help were so often spoken in the poor district where there was more then enough violence to send even the most jaded guard scurrying with their tail between their legs.

But this wasn't the poor district, this was still the wealthy district and Altair turned away from his current direction and went towards the sounds. "What is it akh?" Rakkim ran after him as Altair walked quickly through the crowd. He paid the boy no attention and stopped at the end of the road effortlessly shifting into his second sight. There in an alley he saw five four guards harassing a woman, one stood watch, his hand on the pommel of his sword, they were outlined in a harsh red glow.

"Altair, where are you go-" Rakkim's question was cut short as Altair made a fist with his left hand and the hidden blade snapped out of its sheathed position and began to stalk slowly towards the guards. "Al-

"Stay right there Rakkim," Altair's words were short and he glanced back just once to see the boy press himself up against the wall of a building, hiding in the shadow of an awning like a good street rat. He returned his attention to his targets and moved right up to one and before he knew what was happened Altair had plunged his hidden blade deep into his gut. He wrenched up, widening the hole before letting him fall back.

In the three seconds it took him to take care of the first guard the other five hadn't had time to properly draw their swords and Altair slammed his blade horizontally into one's skull, shoving to the right as his free arm snaked up and back to grab his short blade. The man gagged once as he slid off Altair's blade before the other four were on him.

They fought furiously, though none made a solid hit as Altair danced between the four managing to slice the throat of one. But it left his back momentarily open and one of the guards kicked him in the back, stomping him into the ground with a heavy boot and forcing the air from his lungs so that he couldn't breath. He managed to see the guard poised to deliver the killing blow and Altair was in no position to stop him as he tried in vain for force air into his squashed lungs.

"Leave him alone!" suddenly the guard fumbled and stumbled off Altair who quickly drew in a deep gasp and twisted away from his spot as another guard made a swing at his head and on instinct as he rolled into a crouch threw a knife at his attacker. The man grunted as the knife pierced his throat and he slumped to the ground. He heard a high shrill scream and looked up from his crouch in time to watch the guard swing his sword and cleave a bloody swatch across the left side of Rakkim's face. Altair lurched to his feet and in a single bound as the guard made to run his sword through the boy he hit the guard hard, sending him plummeting to the ground, his hidden blade buried deep in the man's skull.

There were two left and Altair made quick work of one by hamstringing him and slamming his short blade into his chest before the other decided it was better to run. He didn't get far before another of Altair's throwing knives found itself in his back and he pitched forward onto his face.

Altair ran back over to where Rakkim lay, he hadn't moved since the guard had cut him, and quickly gathered him into his arms before running to the nearest alley to escape more notice then was necessary.

Once safe behind a wall Altair laid Rakkim against the wall of a building. His eyes were closed and the left side of his face was nothing but a bloody smear and Altair couldn't even tell where his eye was so great was the damage. He ripped open the boy's shirt to see the wound on his chest, a wound that wouldn't have been as bad of a blow for Altair was nearly fatal on such a small scrawny child. He put his ear up against the boy's lips as he continued to bleed out and didn't hear anything. Fear jolted through him and he pressed his fingers to his neck and was relieved to feel a feint twitch of a pulse. Weak but there.

Altair needed to take him to a doctor, but he didn't know any. He always just went to-

He quickly tore up the rest of Rakkim's shirt and used to bind around his chest where the blood continued to pour and with only a slight bit of exertion Altair pulled Rakkim up into his arms

"Akh," Rakkim's voice suddenly trembled from his lips. "Where are we going?" he sounded like a ghost; hollow and distant. Altair didn't reply he just set out at a trot away towards the poor district, the bureau and Malik.


	3. Dilerium

Malik rose a brow when he heard someone drop in from the roof. It couldn't be Altair, he'd left today to return to Masyaf. He wasn't expecting one of the novices to be back so soon either, and no message had arrived from the Master with news of another assassin visiting Jerusalem.

"Malik," it was Altair, that was for sure which just caused Malik's brows to twitch together in irritation. What was that idiot doing here? There was something that sounded like a whimper which just further peaked Malik's interest.

"What do you want novi-" his words trailed off when Altair entered the bureau, blood covered the front of his robes, becoming more the color of his sash, a boy held close to his body. "What is this!" he cried.

Altair moved over to the desk, "Help him," were his only words and Malik nearly choked. He'd never heard Altair sound so… _helpless_ in his life. The man was very obviously distressed and had no idea what to do and was coming to Malik because of the two he probably did know what to do in this situation.

"Put him there," Malik ordered fiercely and pointed at another table against the wall. Altair did as he was ordered as Malik moved around his desk. He shoved Altair out of the way to examine the scrawny boy, carefully wiping away some of the dried blood on his face making him groan in pain and Malik carefully unwound the rags Altair had used to bind the wound. "Get me some water," he barked at Altair who retreated quickly to the garden while Malik hurried back to his desk pulling out bandages, some alcohol, and a needle and thread. He knew already the wound would have to be sewn shut, he just didn't know if the boy would live through the event of almost having his skull cleaved in two, or the gaping sword wound on his torso.

Wordlessly he snatched the bucket of water from Altair and effectively used it and the alcohol to clean the wound. The boy moaned from the touches and Malik instructed Altair to hold him down. Altair pressed his hands to his shoulders and both he and the boy winced as Malik shoved two fingers into the wound. "Make sure he doesn't go unconscience," he ordered as he looked up to see the boy's head lolling to the side. A swift slap of skin on skin was the sign that Altair wouldn't let him. He hated to have to do this but he needed to make sure nothing _inside_ was hurt. If there was… there wouldn't be anything Malik could do for him. With relief he didn't feel anything other then muscle and a thin layer of fat had been disturbed and withdrew his fingers to quickly sew the wound shut elating stunted cries of pain from the boy who was clinging to conscienceness but only just barely.

"He's still awake?" he demanded of Altair when he'd finished stitching closed the boy's chest, surprisingly quick with only one hand. The younger man only nodded but was not looking at Malik. "You will have to hold him so he doesn't move when I sew his face," Malik said softly and watched Altair flinch as if struck but he didn't move. "Altair," he sharpened his tongue.

The man nodded and they changed places and Malik drew the thread through the needle as Altair put one hand on the boy's chest, the other on the right side of the boy's face. The boy's eyes fluttered in delirium as Malik put the needle down long enough to wash away the blood on his face and clean the wound making his body jerk to and fro like a puppet on a cut set of strings. "Don't let him move Altair," were his firm words and Altair's grip tightened and he looked away as Malik pressed the needle into the flayed skin of the boy's face. He managed a scream once but Altair's grip was firm and he shoved a piece of bundled bandages into his mouth so he wouldn't scream any more. Malik could feel his entire frame shuttering and convulsing under him like he was having a seizure as Malik tried to stitch him up as quickly as possibly being extra careful around the eye (which was amazingly still intact).

Finally he clipped the thread with his teeth and the boy continued to shake uncontrollably. Malik looked at Altair who's lips were moving but no sounds came forth as he bowed his head slightly over the child's frail frame. Malik wrapped the boy's head before moving away from the table to put away his things and wash the blood off his hand and arm. When he'd finished Altair was still standing over the boy's prone figure, his shoulders hunched, hand braced against the table as if it alone could keep him upright.

"Altair," Malik came up behind him but Altair made no motion that he'd even heard. "Altair," he placed a hand on Altair's shoulder and he finally turned though his hood shadowed his eyes and even up close Malik could not see them. "He needs rest now," he said, "And you are covered in blood.

"Not mine," Altair's words were soft and raspy.

"Well that is obvious. Still, we should wash them," he motioned for Altair to step away from the boy and remove his outer robes. He did so, though reluctantly and handed them to Malik who did not begrudge him when he turned back to the badly injured child who's eyes fluttered open and closed with each breath he took.

He turned away from them and drew water from the garden to let the robes soak. He'd have one of the novices clean the robes once they returned for the day, their lists of tasks Malik sent them complete (or they didn't return at all). When he returned Altair was sitting with his back against the wall, the boy had been moved off the table and when Malik's eyes flicked around the bureau and saw the small pile of pillows there was a bit different shaped; more angular and Malik knew what had happened to him. He cleaned up the blood on the floor and table wordlessly, Altair didn't move, he just had his head between his knees, fingers grasping his hair so tightly Malik was sure he would just start ripping it out.

Once everything was in order Malik slid down the wall next to Altair. "Who is he?" he asked, neither of them looking at each other.

"Just a kid," Altair muttered.

"Is he the one you've been stealing my bread for?" he was merely curious and Altair nodded mutely his head still between bent legs. "So then he has a name?" another nod. "What is it?"

"Rakkim," Altair finally said after a silence that was probably far to long to be comfortable; not that Malik cared for stupid things like that.

"Do I get to know what stupidity of yours landed that child in mortal dang-

"It was no fault of mine!" Altair suddenly turned and glared at him. Malik leaned back, honestly shocked by the outburst from his friend and the searing glare coming from Altair's amber eyes. It only lasted a few seconds though before he looked away and Malik saw a hint of shame cross the assassin's face.

"Then what?" Altair told him what happened in as few words as possible and when he was done Malik looked back at the boy on the pillows. Now and then he would see a foot twitch and knew he was only sleeping; though fitfully. "Why didn't you just leave him?" Malik asked now, "He is nothing but a street child-" Altair muttered something and Malik caught a familiar word. "Excuse me?"

Altair looked right at Malik and said, "I wouldn't leave him like I left you and Kadar," he said and Malik felt his mouth go dry and he didn't know what to say. Altair ran his hand through his short hair and stood up, pushing off his knees and walked over to the pile of pillows but did not sit. He just looked down at it and rubbed his face and Malik could hear him cursing himself plainly.

Malik had heard an apology from Altair once on the matter, that Malik had been right back in Solomon's Temple. But it had never sounded like _that_. Altair's apology to Malik had been the omission of a man with to much pride to truly ask for forgiveness from someone else. He did seek forgiveness, for the outcome maybe if not totally in his actions in going after Robert. His words now were from a man who did not want forgiveness from Malik, or pity for anything, because he could not forgive himself.

"What happened was not your fault," Malik said after a long silence, Altair had not moved from Rakkim's prone figure. Altair just acted like he hadn't spoken at all and slowly let his left hand become a fist. Malik shrugged to his feet, using the wall for support and went over to Altair. "Altair," he put his hand on Altair's naked shoulder, "What happened to this boy or Kadar was not your fault," he said. Altair's shoulders sagged but he didn't reply. "And standing here worrying isn't doing anyone, including yourself, any good. Come," he patted Altair's shoulder and pulled him away, Altair allowed himself to be dragged and Malik pushed him down on a rug in the garden before going back to his desk and fetching some herbs from an earthen jar and put a pot of water to boil. Once the tea was done he sat down next to Altair in the garden and forced the cup into his hands. "Drink," he ordered. Altair was to far withdrawn into his own mental misery that he didn't even notice Malik toss his tea into the nearest potted plant and drank it probably quicker then he should have.

"Malik," Altair asked, Malik merely grunted in reply, "Will Rakkim live?" he stared at him.

"Probably," Malik said if only because when Altair looked at him like that he didn't have the heart to tell him no. The boy's wounds were severe and Malik truly didn't know if he would recover, and if he did it would be a miracle from Allah that was for sure.

"Good," Altair yawned then before shaking his head as to get rid of his tiredness, Malik knew no such thing would happen though, not at the rate Altair had drunken his tea. He reached to his right and grabbed several pillows, arranging them around him and settled with his head against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. Malik watched him as the sun through the grate played across his bare chest to see if he'd say anything more. "I don't want to lose another little brother," he muttered softly his eyes closed and a few moments later Malik knew Altair was asleep. Which was for the better; since he didn't know what to say to that.

—

Altair turned his horse to get one last look at Jerusalem. It was a long trip to Masyaf and he was already several weeks behind schedule; the Master would not be pleased. The thought made him frown, then he frowned deeper when he realized he didn't care if the Master chewed him out for being so late. He couldn't have just left Rakkim alone like that. He'd left two brothers alone once and had lost one for it; he didn't plan to make the same mistake twice.

"Akh," Altair looked down at the dark haired boy in the saddle in front of him, his gray-blue eyes were as bright as ever despite the giant scar on his face. "Where are we going?" he asked as Altair turned the horse around away from the city and towards the Kingdom.

"Home little brother," he said, "We're going home," and he kicked the horse into a canter.


End file.
